Lost in the Desert
by Noa Qep
Summary: Deep within the arid wastelands, an ancient civilization ruled by a powerful monarchy shall be torn apart at the hands of the royal family's love, loss, and tragedy. Braig x OC-Rita x Ienzo. M for all the reasons you can think of.
1. Chapter 1

Carts bustle and buckle on the crude stone roads. It is worth the trek, however, to reach the oasis kingdom of Radiant Garden, so called for its beauty and vitality in the dry, arid desert. The only source of water known in the area for miles and miles, its wealth stemmed from its waters and its great caves, known for holding prized jewels in every wall. The hot air doesn't bother the kingdom, cooled by its endless seams of rivers. The beauty of water seen by none everywhere else has made it the center of the world. Arts dedicated to its beauty sit in each household. Each form of architecture is beautifully built thanks to the genius of the people and the endless wealth of the town. The days are long, granting easy light to workers and players alike. Flowers of every shade and hue decorate the town, best around the plaza. Stalls selling fresh fruits and vegetables, juicy and tasty, line the plaza, their products harvested from the new farms built nary a decade ago but already in swift and fruitful production. The first city to build underground aqueducts, the soils close-by nourished enough to sustain life. Radiant Garden is truly a pinnacle amongst pinnacles.

It is here that another thing is of great value: alchemists. Frowned upon by religious leaders and seen as heretics and bringers of Chaos, alchemists believe in science and the spiritual coming together as one. While they must research from the shadows in many areas, Radiant Garden is the one place they are free to do their work. It is on one day that a carriage transporting alchemists was on its way, its passengers hoping for a fresh start after being ran out of their previous abode so far back.

"We're almost there," the man whispered to the girl. "Soon, we shall arrive, and all will be perfect. We can smile again, and we can laugh. They won't judge us here."

The man's kindred amber eyes settled on the girl next to him. Easy to be mistaken for father and daughter by apparent age differences, he looked upon her with much love and care. Her eyes were concealed by thick, black hair. She was hidden under a thin, tan and red cloak, the brown hood pulled over her head. The man wore the exact same cloak as she. He had his arm around her comfortingly, as though trying to reassure her through a time of stress. His long, straight blonde hair was quite fair. A goatee of the some benevolent tint circled his thin lips.

"Driver! Once the roads even out, speed up the Veil Lizard!" the fair-haired man ordered.

"You got it!" the driver shouted back, his wild, dirty-blonde hair hardly moving with the rocking motion of the carriage. His nimble hands whipped the reins connecting to the dark green creature.

Inside, the man went back to consoling the young girl. He had dreamed of peace and solace for so long, but his work never permitted such delicacies to stay long. Maybe now he would have his dream…

Inside the city, onlookers gasped out of fright. A creature! A creature that wasn't human! Such an atrocity was truly a sight. Its bulging eyes and quirky movements frightened many, but at the same time intrigued others. It cared not for all the attention it was getting, so it carried on a quick and steady pace.

The driver surveyed the map he was given, trying to make heads or tails of the paper before him. "Hey, uh…" he said to those inside, "where am I goin' with this?"

"To the _galley! _We need to get there in time," the man inside replied impatiently. He often wondered what had compelled him to take on such a foolish child as a servant.

"Right, right…to the galley!" the driver repeated, his green eyes grazing over the illegible scrawl on the paper doubtfully. With another whip to the lizard, he decided to just wing it.

It wasn't before long that the carriage suddenly stopped.

"…What's this? We're only a few blocks from the galley! You could at _least_—!" The man was cut short by the scene in front of him.

Upon hopping out of the carriage, he found his driver bound by guards. They were surrounding the lizard, which was on full-alert. It would be no use, however, how many they had in number.

"It's _gone_!" they yelled, when the Veil Lizard unleashed its special ability and turned invisible.

The fair-haired man smirked. Those soldiers had no imagination—they would be unable to tell the Veil Lizard was simply hidden, not gone. Just as he had surmised, the soldiers ran off to find the lizard, ignoring the fact the harness was still up in the air.

"You, there! Stay still!" a soldier ordered him.

Not one to trifle with the authority, the man simply shrugged and held his hands in the air. They took away the struggling driver, who was flailing about, kicking his long, thin legs into the air. As they took him away, two soldiers encircled the man. One went to the carriage, but it suddenly took off.

"H-hey!" he shouted, losing his balance by the sudden take-off.

The blonde man held pride and confidence in the Veil Lizard. _Go… Take her _far _away from here, _he mentally instructed the lizard.

As long as they didn't find her, she could be safe.

**x~X*X~x**

The soldiers marched the man through the two-story, covered bridge used to transport prisoners out of public view. The brick walls and uncovered windows letting in little light gave off a claustrophobic feel. While the entire kingdom had stone floors, not a single patch of dust or dirt left uncovered, inside the bridge, the ground was dusty and filth-ridden. No flowers or grasses here; only dust and debris could decorate the earth. The bridge encircled the kingdom, and the side of the walls facing the outside of the kingdom let in the arid, dry, grainy air of the desert. This made the inside of the bridge truly unbearable at high-noon, which had passed only a few moments ago.

The fair-haired man eyed the others carefully. While guards were watching everyone they transported cautiously, pickpockets and marauders wandered everywhere. You had every right to tackle someone that brushed your shoulder. You could die if you were careless for even a second.

He was pushed in the back by an impatient guard.

"Hmph," the man scoffed, discarding the guard as simply bored.

Their feet kicked up the loose soil, the entry to the dungeons up ahead. A great, bolted wooden door hung tenaciously above. It was surprising its immense weight was held up, sustained in the air just high enough for the first floor to traverse to and fro. The closer they approached the dungeons, the stronger the odor of depression and disease became. The man wrinkled his nose at the smell. He had encountered foul stenches in his line of work, but none could hold a candle to the reek of a most miserable dungeon.

Inside, the stone walls were splotched with gunk and mold and slimes of all types. There was little light, if any. The prisoners littering the cells didn't scream for freedom or argue with anyone; they were lying or sitting down, thin as rails, all former egos and strengths already wasted from their bodies. Where there is great prosperity, there is great poverty, and the dungeons were just that. The man eyed the people with anxiety and concern. Would he be thrown in here? For simply having a creature that was not human? He wouldn't be surprised. No matter how open-minded a person was, there would always be something just a little too out of his or her worldview.

He was both relieved and unnerved when his holders led him out of the dungeons and into the outside of the city. In front of him was just the barren desert. It pained him to see that which he had just escaped.

"To the right!" a guard ordered him.

He followed the order with no argument. To the right, he saw a truly grand view:

A great, majestic castle fitting for such a wondrous kingdom stood, towering as a symbol of royalty over the barren wastelands before it. There was a paved road between two rivers entering the basement of the castle. Great wagons full of products and people, large and small, elegant and plain, entered the castle with no fear. It had thin, circular towers with pale-blue roofs, its walls made from Persian orange stones. The windows were all either stained glass or a slight tint of sapphire. Its eloquence intimidated the man, who had not seen such wealth in such a long time.

He was granted the privilege to enter the caste. He cowered only slightly from the emanating power. Should he truly tread upon such an opulent domain? The farther he went, the more guards there seemed to be, and the more majestic powers he found himself encountering. Arts of all cultures, all forms, all undoubtedly priceless, decorated the vicinities as though mere trinkets. An exciting _*clack!* _echoed from the bottom of their shoes as they stepped on the clean, polished tiles. Each tile was an indecipherable shape, cut and wedged into each other perfectly. There wasn't a single speck of neither dirt nor dust. The light let in by the huge windows was always the same color of white, no matter what color the glass was stained. As such, all was brightly lit, revealing each adequate detail of the locale.

The man was forced upstairs to the second floor. The staircase in front of him was only a set of twenty or so stairs. It led up to a set of glass doors, which concealed what lay beyond them due to their dark coloring of ruby and sangria. The staircase split into twin staircases leading up to the third floor, but that was for another time. He was stopped in front of the large doors.

Guards lined up in front of the door. It took five on each door to open them. Inside was a lair fit for a god. It looked like a combination of the Wardrobe and the Great Chamber. Cloths of silk and satin and mohair and cashmere and angora and so many other marvelous materials were strewn about, their worth totally forgotten. The drapes were thick and heavy over many of the windows. The room was warmly colored, the walls a warm color of light sinopia with columns of pastel cream. The tiles were a pale periwinkle, the ceiling a mural of a sunrise, the sky a fresh blue and apricot clouds. All in all, it was quite inviting, and left little to fear. The edges of the room were messy with strewn cloth all about, but at the end, there was a grand seating of a huge throne. The seat shone in many colors at times, appearing to be made of a rainbow material. Otherwise, when the light didn't blind one with a flurry of colors, it was a rich gold. Its inlaid, plush cushions were Tuscan red and looked soft to the touch. Behind the throne was a wall of naught but a straight, carmine curtain. The back of the room had no corners, just a slanted wall as a vertex where needed. Each slanted wall was hidden by the edges of the carmine curtain, but the man could see that beyond the slanted walls were passageways. He assumed they led to the lord's bedchamber.

Sitting in the great throne in the middle was a man of intimidating stature. He was hunched over in his throne, most likely a position due to boredom, which was apparent on his face. He had tanned skin and broad shoulders. He had shoulder-length, jet-black hair that appeared slicked-back, and his eyes narrowed upon the entrance of the small group of guards. He wore shimmering black and coquelicot, velvet tunic, a Mikado yellow robe shrouding his form. This man was undoubtedly the lord of the castle and the ruler of Radiant Garden.

"Great—what now?" he complained. His voice wasn't exactly…average, for such royalty. It sounded like someone who was bored and utterly done with his job. While the man couldn't blame him for having such feelings, royalty were usually trained to show prim and perfect manners no matter when or where. The fair-haired man actually had felt slightly appalled by the act yet commended the man on not acting like something he wasn't. He wondered if this ruler was one to fear or not, though…

"An alchemist, my lord, in possession of an unknown being," a guard explained.

"'Unknown being'? Feh! And where _is _this 'being'?" the ruler scoffed.

The guard shifted uncomfortably. The alchemist smirked. They wouldn't be able to find it, now that it had turned invisible. As long as it kept her safe…

"My lord! We have the being in our possession!" another guard interrupted, bursting in.

The alchemist was mortified. Had they really? Sure, the Veil Lizard wasn't exactly…small, but there was no _way_—

"Oh, really? Take it to the coliseum, I'll see it there later," the ruler waved him off.

_Please don't have her, please don't have her… _the alchemist mentally pleaded.

"A-and…we have a young woman in our possession, as well," the guard added.

"_No_!" the alchemist shouted, struggling against the guards. Even if he _had _gotten free, he wouldn't have been able to get very far. The paternal instinct within him, however, had forced him to fight against the unbeatable odds. He had to save her; he had to rescue her before—

"Bring 'er in. Seems like the old coot's a li'l whacked about her," the ruler spoke in too casual a manner for one such as he.

The alchemist looked to the ruler in worry. What would happen to his daughter? What would happen to—?

The guard waved to others outside the room. They brought in a person shrouded in the tan and red cloak. The ruler looked on in minor amusement, mostly towards how the alchemist would react.

"Take off 'er hood, come on!" the ruler ordered with a wave of his hand, growing impatient.

The soldier holding her by the arm hastily pulled down her hood. The alchemist looked away out of shame at himself for not protecting her, for not being there long enough for her, for not being strong enough to save her. It was too late. He could do no more. He regretted granting her life, granting her a life that he could so easily foretell what would happen to her. He could only wish they somehow wouldn't be attracted by her wiles.

Long, wavy, black tresses flowed out from the hood, falling with a slight bounce, the ends of the thick, glossy strands straying to her waist. A sheen of midnight befell her hair. Her champagne skin had not a blemish nor scar, a gorgeous contrast to the pitch of her hair. Her thin lips stuck out upon her pale skin, slightly darker as the color of peach-orange.

The ruler—and everyone else—was truly captivated by her presence. Her hair seemed to have the perfect volume and perfect wave like a goddess's would.

She raised her head to look up at the ruler. Her eyes caught him off-guard. Ice-blue with thick, black lashes, they peered up at him with the sweet, innocent guilelessness of a promising deer.

The alchemist had to admit one thing: she was indeed a temptress of the highest caliber. Her naïveté and innocent demeanor matched perfectly with her strong, striking persona to create a truly venomous and heartbreaking temptress. He just thanked whatever Gods he could that he had her shrouded in such crude garb.

The ruler eyed her approvingly, his brown eyes then keeping strong eye-contact with hers. He then looked to the alchemist, who still hung his head away.

"Alchemist—what is your name?" the ruler directed, his tone not at all holding the boredom it had before.

"...Ansem, sir…" he muttered, adding the latter part as a sort of attempt at recognition.

"Ansem, you _really_ brought a wonder to Radiant Garden. Now I'm interested in seeing this 'unknown being' that they've been bickering about," the ruler praised.

"…Thank you…sir," Ansem again said, his words almost a sob.

"Heey, cheer up! What, you sad we saw your li'l girl?" the ruler jeered, standing up from his seat. His strong build and stature was truly shown as he stood straight up from his previously-hunched posture.

Ansem stayed silent this time, trying his best to keep the tears that threatened to fall in his eyes.

"Y'can call me 'Braig', by the way," the ruler mentioned, approaching the girl with lax steps. When he stood before her, he towered over her. "And _what_ is your name?" he asked her arrogantly, bending down slightly to meet her height.

She only stared at him, her slightly-glossy lips not uttering a word. He raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"Hey, Ansem!" he spoke up. "What's 'er name?"

"...R…Rita, sir…" Ansem uttered.

"Riiita," Braig cooed, a devious grin playing on his face as he straightened up his posture. "Rita, Rita, Rita. Quite a name you have there, girlie."

She still stared up at him, no emotion crossing her face. Not anger, sadness, fright, glee, respect, arrogance, infatuation, nothing of the like was expressed from her.

"Uh, hey, she always like this?" Braig asked.

Ansem gave no response.

"Feh. Well, then, I guess we can find out what you _can _express later," Braig figured.

Ansem's head shot up at his remark. "Don't you _touch _her!" he roared, lunging forward again. The guards grew more hostile in their restraint of him.

"Hey, hey, cool it, cool it. Listen, you say you're an alchemist, right? Well, depending on what I think of your li'l friend creature thing that I'll see, I might just give you a good position here. What do you think of that?" Braig offered.

Ansem wanted to refute; he wanted to run with Rita out of there. But…he couldn't. He was a smart enough man to understand his limits, and in that castle, he had no power whatsoever.

"…I...accept," he consented through gritted teeth.

"Good! Now, how 'bout we see this creature of yours?" Braig suggested, patting Ansem on the back and leading him out the doors. Before they left, he told one of the guards, "Oh, uh, take her into the back." Ansem heard this order and twitched, but he could do nothing more. He hated the thoughts of what ran through his head.

And he knew they'd come true.

| XD | D8 | 8D | DX |

I had this story in the back of my head for sooo long lately. I sort of didn't want to ruin the image of Xigbar and Tarxi as father and daughter, but my corrupted mind just couldn't stay away from it. DX I like the way this is turning out, though. :3 I was originally gonna use Xigbar, but then there was this plotline later on that I knew I had to use Braig. And anyway…Xigbar has that more father-like persona, I guess, but Braig…he looks like the type of dude to lurk around beaches and hit on hot girls. XD Or…am I the only one getting that idea…? I love writing about Ansem. He's so much fun. He's actually one of my favorite chars despite his discrimination against Nobodies. He's really easy to write as. And, Ienzo shall appear (and then disappear! Fwah!) in chpt 2. I hope I can strangle my mind to the point where I can get chpt 2 out. 'Til then, bye~!


	2. Chapter 2

Braig took Ansem downstairs, a hand on his back to help lead him along. The guards followed in suit, preparing for any further outburst from the guest. Down the ritzy stairs they went, and then they made a sharp right.

"Y'know, it's been a _looong _time since we've had an alchemist with something of interest," Braig told Ansem, who seemed highly uncomfortable in his position. Why wouldn't he be? He was in a place where he held no power, no status. His daughter was being sent to who knew where, prepped for who knew what. He _loathed _that part with every ounce of his being. He would become a slave just to save her from what this man obviously had prepared.

"…ey. Old dude? _Hey!_" Braig shouted in Ansem's ear.

"Oh, er…what?" he blurted senselessly, as if awaking from a daze. He had actually been contemplating any possible means of escape from this accursed yet tempting palace.

"I _said: _what can y'tell me about this…uh, thing?"

"You'll see once we get there, sir," Ansem muttered, a bit of his arrogance coming back. He knew he had much to fear from one with such power, _that _he was certain, but he couldn't help it. He relished in the position of knowing something others did not, especially with young ones as arrogant as the young ruler next to him.

Braig raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject. Their feet led them to the outside, which was blistering hot. The coliseum: the one area unblessed by the waters within the city. Here, there was nothing but blistering heat to welcome its visitors. Sand easily sank into your shoes—if you were wearing any, that is. Going without shoes was a foolhardy act. Going to the coliseum, however, wasn't a bright idea, either. Up ahead was their destination: a ring made of sand and stone, built from sweat and tears of many workers that had died for the cause. Those who visited their then didn't bat an eyelash as they stepped upon the edifice so valued by its creators, so eagerly and enthusiastically constructed at the expense of their lives. Such a thought was morbid and saddening, if not slightly ironic. Those of wealth and power worked with those who were poor in this ring, and while all things weren't exactly "fair", only the poor had the vague idea of what the coliseum could one day be.

"My lord, do you wish shade?" a guard inquired.

"Nahh, letting a little thing like the sun get t'ya is pretty pathetic. Let's get tans!" Braig laughed heartedly, patting Ansem on the back.

Ansem actually wanted some shade and didn't care if this man thought him pathetic for such a desire. While he wanted to tell the guard to find them shade until reaching the coliseum, he was in no position for such a request, especially if their ruler wanted the opposite. So, he bore with the heat and the sweltering sunlight that was unmerciful to the plants that wished to surface underneath the sands.

To his great fortune, the coliseum's entrance was not far. The trek across the sands was exhausting in itself. Going under the stone arch that was the entrance, Ansem let out a deep sigh of relief. What a difference shade made! Even some of the guards relaxed in the shade—out of sight of their ruler, of course.

"Heyy, by the way," Braig brought up, as they made a right in the main hall into a hall of cages, "what can y'tell me about little Rita?"

Ansem eyed the man warily. He knew what he was getting at, but he couldn't help asking: "What do you wish to know?"

"Ohh, the usual. Basics. As in…how old she is."

"Years, months, or days?" Ansem offered. He could decipher hours and even minutes if given only a minute, but he didn't dare pull off a more-arrogant remark than the one he just uttered.

After an odd look from Braig, he answered: "Years, y'coot. Years."

"Centuries, decades? Or alone?" Very few that didn't practice in science knew of the different scales to measure times. Centuries and decades, and even millennia and eons, were all different aspects of measuring the subject of "years", and all were very new.

"Ha ha! Let's be a little different and say…decades!" Braig was enjoying himself. At least that was a positive. Ansem commended him if he even knew what "decades" _meant._

"One-point-five decades."

"Ahh, so she's fifteen?" Braig smirked, putting a hand under his defined chin.

Ansem grimaced. He didn't like the gleam in his brown eyes or the low growl in his throat as he had said that. At least he was intelligent enough to not only recognize the amount "decades" held, but also to convert it into lone years. It wasn't a difficult feat, but still.

"So, what is she, your gal?"

"_No_!" Ansem denied, disgusted by the mere thought. "She is my _daughter!"_

"…That a 'no'?" Ansem had to admit: this man had his clever points and his…simple points.

"That _is _a 'no'," Ansem verified, as they reached the end of the hall. He didn't like the way Braig's lips twitched lightly at the corners into a smirk when he said that.

The small group turned to a great creature held in the cage. In its nervous state, the Veil Lizard was turning from invisible to visible in quick spurts. Ansem knew that was a defense mechanism, and if these people weren't careful, the creature was likely to let out its offensive attack instead of just going on the defensive.

"Whoaa-ho-ho! _This _is the creature? …I _like _it! _Definitely _not human," Braig deciphered, fully intrigued and amused. He approached the cell, putting a hand under his chin and scrutinizing every detail to the creature. It glared at him with its bugged eyes. "Hey, this thing got a name?"

"It's a Veil Lizard. Quite dangerous, these," Ansem answered, unable to help taking pride in his work. The Veil Lizard was one of his favorite successes from his research.

"Uh_-huh._ And…how's it…_not there_, and then there?" Braig phrased with difficulty. Who could blame him? This was one of the first cases of invisibility coming into the material world.

"It is one of its special power. _One _of them. It releases a cloaking over itself to blend in with the colors of its surroundings…to escape from predators or to hide from its prey. Right now, it views you as its predators. If you are not careful, it shall go on the offensive—and that is _never _a pretty sight," Ansem explained.

"Uh-_huh_," Braig repeated again. He was in deep thought about something while watching the Veil Lizard. Ansem was a little cautious of the man's thoughts, but didn't give it any real worry.

"My lord! My lord! Th-this girl…!" one of the guards shouted from down the hall.

When the two men turned around, something suddenly latched onto Ansem.

"Rita!" he exclaimed, almost a sigh of relief. He gazed down at his daughter with care, placing a hand on her smooth, black hair, which held blue sheens even in the dim light of the cage hall. She wore something else other than the cloak exact to the one he was still wearing, but he didn't notice that. She buried her face into his chest, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around him for solace. He smiled down softly at her like he had in the carriage. He was honestly grateful she had escaped and found her way to him, even though he knew she would indisputably be taken back.

"Hey, what's she doing _out_?" Braig shot at the sentinel that was running their way.

"I-I-I was watching the Great Chamber when all of a sudden…she burst out of the doors and took off! She's…she's _not human_!" the guard cried with typical anguish.

"Feh! Carelessness, that's all you got," Braig muttered, smacking the guard on the shoulder.

The guard staggered forward a bit, then quickly regained his footing. Ansem looked on for fear of something else happening to the guard. Would he be ordered to be executed? Would he be whipped, or tortured some other form? When no such order left Braig's lips, he was astounded. Such benevolence! When compared to how many lords treated their servants when they misbehaved in such a manner. He didn't know whether to praise this man or call him foolhardy. Considering the great respect and fear his servants showed towards him, though, he couldn't help but be a little more eased at being in that castle at that time.

"Get 'er off 'im," Braig directed one of the sentinels with a wave of his hand.

The sentinel quickly went to work. With not even a quick apology, he removed the family embrace. Ansem could finally see what his daughter had on, and he was repelled with a mixture of shock and disgust.

Her form was draped in a short gown. Tied around the waist by a thin sash, it ended right at her knees and had no sleeves. Like a typical robe, it was held together only by the thin sash. Made from shimmering, fine, violet threads much like the gleam of her hair, it was of thin make and seemed to drape every aspect to her voluptuous body. From the chest to the waist to the hips, it loosely left any onlooker to instant infatuation. Quite the change from the grimy bag of a cloak she wore before.

Ansem turned his face away from her, while all the others couldn't look away. Braig's eyes widened and gleamed with wayward hilarity, his lips turned up into an open laugh. Rita, meanwhile, held the same detached glower as before. She didn't understand her position, nor did she frankly care. Her eyes twitched from those around her to her father.

"Heh! She cleans up quiiite nicely," Braig remarked, taking a few steps towards her.

She took a step back, against her holder. The guard didn't see her from the position the others did, so he wasn't affected by her tempting form. He held on with good strength, putting his mind towards the order of his ruler instead of what was in front of him. It was a good quality in a servant: total obedience.

"Little Rita. There's no _way _you can be fifteen with _this_ in front of me," he commented, waving his hand to signify her entire body.

She gave no reaction this time. His smirk grew wider as she met his gaze with a fierce, silent glare. He finally got a response when she twitched her head away from him after he set his hand to cup her chin. He swiftly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She struggled lightly against the guard, her expression twisting to a scowl. Ansem kept his face away, unaware of the sight taking place before him. Braig snatched her left arm in his hand tightly to keep her still. She continued to struggle despite his tight grip that would've made other girls cry.

"Heh," he snickered, when he pulled away and let her go. She scowled at him and continued to struggle. "Take 'er back—and _no goof-ups," _he ordered the guard, who nodded immediately and hustled her out with two other sentries following him.

"Tch. Now, then! About your 'Veil Lizard'," Braig addressed, wiping his thumb against where a small bit of blood trickled down. The girl had bit her right when he'd pressed his lips against hers. He hadn't shown weakness when she did so, but he was slightly angered by it.

Ansem lifted his head, thanking whatever powers that may be that his daughter was out of the room. He hated her being showcased like that and wished he could just drape a sheet over her and run off.

"…I think I'll keep ya here! Welcome aboard, Ansem!" Braig cheered, slapping him again on the back.

He staggered forward a bit by the sudden contact, but he couldn't hide his smile. He was accepted; at least that meant he could perform his research in the open without any need for hatred from the public. But…what did that mean for Rita?

"And Rita?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Well, after _that_, she's gonna need some _proper backlash_. Buuut, yeah. I guess she can stay," Braig smirked.

Ansem looked down at the sand over his feet. Should he have told him about Rita's existence? He decided not to for the moment, instead appreciating his new position.

**x~X*X~x**

The guard was still dragging the girl out to the castle. She gave up struggling now that her father and that strangely-dressed man were out of sight. She moved the taste of that man's blood in her mouth, her throat burning with its essence.

She was thrown back into the Great Chamber. After regaining her balance, she turned her head to look at one pile of clothing. It was colored with burnt-orange and golden poppy clothing. She thought for a moment, then decided on a plan.

"Get back—_h-hey!_" the guards yelled, when they were covered in warm-colored clothes. Blinded, they fell backwards, as Rita ran out.

She ran and ran and ran. When a line of sentries stopped her from leaving the main entryway, she decided to go down the left hallway, opposite the one Ansem and Braig had taken to get to the coliseum. She ran and ran, past tables and past bookshelves. She could easily outrun the puny servants, and she swiftly darted between bookshelves and floors of the immense library she had wandered into on her escapade. The ceiling was a glass dome, seeping in sunlight from the bright skies above, which showcased the sun being right in the middle of high-noon and ducking below the horizon. The light shining in was a tint of Alice blue, enveloping the tenné wood and the multicolored bounds of the books. The sunset-colored tiles didn't dare make a sound when her uncovered feet fell upon them in her hurry.

Her speed came to a abrupt halt when she full-on collided with a physical mass.

"_Gah!" _the mass cried out, and there was a flurry of papers.

The two people fell down. Rita fell straight to the ground, as the other braced himself up on his hands and then promptly hopped back up on his two feet.

Slightly stunned, Rita shook her head, her heavy black hair weighing the motion down. When she raised her head, she found herself meeting dusty-blue eyes.

"Since when were…ah," the person said in a tired voice. His mussy slate gray hair, which seemed to have been left unattended since awakening, just about fully covered one half-lidded, piercing azure eye. He had lightly-tanned skin and a thin yet stalwart frame draped by fine cobalt and navy blue robes.

His hands were holding countless papers and a book or two, so she was offered no help getting up. Upon rising, she found he was taller than her by a…half-foot? She scowled. Why was everyone so tall? She despised feeling small.

When he bent over, she saw the scattered papers and books. Without any real care or guilt at the fact she was the reason for the mess, she blankly stood still as he began to grab the papers together. After a while of doing nothing, she decided to mimic his movements. She eyed the pages. There were strange words and symbols that resembled what her father had always studied since her eyes first opened.

"I'll take those," the guy said, snatching the pages she had away from her.

She didn't hold any hostility or fright at his brash movement; she only granted the blank stare she gave everyone else. He awaited the typical response he received from others when first introduced to his disposition: a "hmph!" or some grumbled remark and then a haughty departure. When she just resumed picking up a book or two, he was vaguely surprised.

"And those," he said, taking a book she started flipping through away.

She blinked a couple times at the speedy motion. After seeing nothing else around herself to grab, she straightened out her legs.

With the mess cleaned up with little thanks to her, the guy was able to get a better look at her. He instantly recognized the garb she had on.

"Feh. One of my father's new whores?" he said to her with a sneer.

She stared at him as usual. He narrowed his eyes at her lack of response. Was she dumb? Did she know what "whore" meant? Did she even know what he meant?

"My _father. _Braig," he enunciated, right away growing irritated by her slow processing methods.

Her eyes widened in realization. She knew what "father" meant, and she knew who "Braig" was. That was enough to put two and two together. Or…one and one together.

"Yeaah, I see you understand _that," _the guy muttered to himself, straightening out his posture. She did the same, still gazing at him in wonder. His eyes twitched in further agitation. This girl was definitely odd. He wasn't accustomed to such mannerisms. Right when he was to leave, he heard a sound behind him.

"Did you say something?" he asked, wanting to be done with this aggravating woman.

"Father. Ansem. My father," she spoke with slight enthusiasm, a light smile playing on her lips.

He was a little taken aback by her expression and her words. Why was she so…jovial at that? Ansem? Where had he heard that name before…?

"My father, Ansem. Your father, Braig. Our fathers," she stated with a giggle.

"Yeaah, I'm glad you've realized that," he mumbled, turning away. He had to get away; this girl was quickly sapping his IQ rapidly.

There was a tug on his sleeve, one that almost made him drop some papers again. He turned around to the source of the tug. Of course, it was the girl.

"What now? I know your dad's name, and you know mine. That's nice. Now let me go," he ordered, hoping the venom in his voice would be enough to get her to go away.

"Rita. And…you are?" she asked, doing her best to mimic the words her father had spoken to those in such occasions as this. At least, she _hoped _she was using the right words. If she wasn't, her father would most likely be ashamed.

"Ienzo. Now let me go," he ordered. She complied this time, and he walked away.

"…I…en…zo…" Rita whispered, holding her hands to her mouth as though in a prayer.

With that, she continued her chase throughout the castle, a childish grin faint on her thin lips.

| XD | D8 | 8D | DX |

Yaaay Ienzo appears! And disappears! Fwah! (See? I FORETOLD THIS!) So…yeah, this is where things shall start to happen. Oh, noes! I had to laugh during Ansem and Braig's bonding moment. Now it's getting sort of hard to write for Ansem. If you haven't exactly picked up on what's up with Rita…no, she's not retarded. She's not "Rita the retard", so get that out of your cruel little minds already. That one part at the end of Ansem's thought trail was a little hard to phrase, since…y'know, I have to keep him a discriminating douche while still a "loving father", so nyeh. Next chapter shall be something…fun. :3 Adios for now!


	3. Chapter 3

"This is where you'll do your thing, okay?" Braig showed Ansem his new lab.

Ansem strode into the lab shocked. There was everything he could wish for! With shelves of chemicals and books of vast experience and knowledge, the laboratory had a lot of potential for him.

"You'll be sure to keep us amused, riiight?" Braig asked with a knowing smirk.

"Of course, sir," Ansem muttered, gaping at the tools set out before him.

"Drop that 'sir' thing! I told ya to call me 'Braig' already!" he yelled, turning away.

"Where are you leaving to?" Ansem inquired.

"Heh heh. To my _own _fun," Braig told him, leaving with the entourage of guards behind him. "There's a library on the first floor if y'follow the halls! Have at it, Tiger!"

The door shut, leaving Ansem standing in the lab, unaware of what would befall his daughter. Instead, he was focused on what to do first: read the books there, or visit the library?

**x~X*X~x**

Rita had been captured and returned to the Great Chamber. She sat down on the dark-cobalt sheets of smooth silk and drapes of transparent, lavender satin. The dark-cobalt color reminded her of Ienzo's garb, and she wrapped her hands around it, wondering if that was what Ienzo's clothing would feel like. The robe she had tugged on did; did the rest?

"What do you mean, she 'ran off again'?" Braig grimaced outside, after hearing the tales his soldiers had to tell.

"Yes, my lord. She apparently ran through the library and almost up through the halls to the garden. We caught her before she could get outside again," the sentry explained.

"Feh," Braig scoffed. This girl was _seriously _a lot of trouble.

"My lord? Shall we exact punishment within the dungeon or coliseum?" the sentry checked.

At the world "punishment", Braig's lips turned up into a smirk. "Just make sure no one comes into the room," he told the sentry.

The guard nodded with a sharp, "My lord!" and Braig stepped past him.

The ruler licked the spot where Rita had previously bitten him: in the lower-left corner of his mouth. He couldn't help but smirk wickedly. As he passed through the carmine curtain and through the passageway, he had fleeting thoughts of how to torture her the best.

Rita heard hasty footsteps approaching and shot up in the bed. Her heartbeat sped a little in anticipation.

"Good to see you're still here," Braig commented, upon seeing her on the bed. He had his arms crossed, his brown eyes sparked with a sense of malice. He leaned against the wall of the entranceway, simply satisfied eyeing her. His Mikado yellow robe had been discarded in the room previous. The tunic had no sleeves and revealed his strong-built arms, every bit powerful as they were intimidating to any foe on the battlefield.

Rita moved up on the bed into a sitting position, out of her previous lying state. The lavender robe drooped off her body in all the perfect places. Braig chuckled as he approached.

"You know, I _really _have to pay you back for that bite earlier. Your dear old dad didn't quite catch our little 'moment'," he said in almost a growl, placing one knee on the bed.

She leaned back as he leaned forward. She couldn't stand the arrogance being emitted from his expression. She honestly wanted to be far from this guy. She wanted to be in another room, maybe back in the library, where she could talk to Ienzo again, or find her father. Where was her father, anyway?

Braig's hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder suddenly. Rita hadn't expected it, so she jerked away instinctively. He was actually a lot stronger than she took him for, and he ended up squeezing her shoulder tightly.

"_Gahh!_" she cried out, shutting her eyes in tight pain.

He was impressed. The strength he exerted would usually break one's shoulder. Hearing not even a pop, he was thoroughly in wonder. He was satisfied with just getting an expression other than stoic glares from her. That was also the first time he heard her voice, even though it was in a strangled scream.

"Ahh, so you _do _make noise! Heh. Let's see what _else _you can do," he threatened, bringing his hand down, slipping off the shoulder of her robe.

The lavender material came down with ease at his will. It stopped at her elbow, held up only by the limits the other side gave it. Rita shot him glares, but he didn't care. He wasn't even paying attention: his eyes were only on the top of her left breast that was exposed by the taunting slip.

"No biting this time," he told her quickly, and before she could respond, he crashed his lips on hers. He pushed her down on the bed, his right hand pulling down the rest of the top part of her robe.

She struggled to get away, pushing her legs against the bed. His hands held down her thighs, restraining her legs.

"I'm not in the mood for a chase today," he said against her neck.

A slight shudder went through her body when she felt his lips brush against her sensitive neck. Her legs refused to move, and her mind grew a little dizzy. His hands moved up from her thighs, up the skirt of the robe, up to her hips, holding them steady as he got in between her legs. Without any movement from him, her arms were suddenly locked in place by an invisible force.

"Heh heh heh," he laughed against her shoulder at her surprise. Her ice-blue eyes stayed glued to him, trying to figure out what he was doing to keep her arms still.

"Now, be nice and let's see what your hands can do," he told her, sitting up and glaring down at her with a dark viciousness.

Without her consent, her hands raised up to start taking off his tunic.

She didn't want to be the one doing that. Her possessed hands lifted his tunic off, it dropping out of her right hand next to them onto the bed. Her eyes beheld each etched muscle on his torso, the first time she had seen a topless man that wasn't in the public. It felt…too private.

Her hands, possessed as they were, began to lightly run over his chest. It felt like stone, not even wincing at her chilled fingertips. They ran down, following the lines of his stomach, just as hard as his chest. She couldn't help but find some sick satisfaction at the way her fingertips brushed his rough skin, even though it was against her will. Her eyes softened from their hardened glare. In the position she was in, she couldn't help but let her curiosity take over. She hadn't even seen her father topless, only random men walking about the town in the heat of the day or by large bodies of water where there were others without tops on. She had never touched anyone else's skin there, either. It was really a new experience for her, one she couldn't pass up to be mesmerized by.

Braig's sneer was full of rightful pride and superiority. He took her hands by the wrists and lay them by the sides of her head, onto her splayed tresses. He leaned down and kissed her again, this time longer and deeper.

She grimaced into the kiss, finally able to get her legs kicking. That odd force slammed down on them painfully, causing her to jerk up from the twinge, involuntarily increasing the kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut in disgust, more at herself than anything. Where was her father? Where was he?

His hand left her wrists, the strange force replacing them. His hands moved down to her breasts and began to work them roughly. They seemed to perfectly mold into his palms and between his fingers.

No one had ever done that to her, so she was automatically startled by it. Was that what they were for? She never had any real understanding about them. She arched her back up again, but more from the pain the force was causing on her wrists. It felt like they were about to snap any moment, and she winced constantly from it. Mixed with the sensations his hands left on her chest made one awkward position.

"You should be grateful, after the lab I gave your daddy," he suddenly muttered into her jawline.

At the mention of her father, something in her snapped. Rita's eyes went wide. Braig was suddenly thrown off of her by a sudden burst of energy, all the way to the wall with which his body made hard contact. The force holding her down was finally lifted, and she took her chance to dart off the bed.

"_Father!" _she screamed, almost making it to the exit.

"Nooo, y'don't!" Braig said, recuperating fast and reaching her with incredible speed. He grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around, her bare back against his stomach. Her long hair tickled his skin, the lone sash keeping the robe on in some sort of peculiar skirt getting in the way of his hold.

She clawed for freedom. Her sobs were audible as stray tears fell from her eyes.

"_Father! Father! Faaather!_" she cried out, reaching her hands out to the passageway that evaded her cruelly. Her bare feet were lifted off the ground by Braig's hold on her.

"Heh! Quite a spitfire, _you _are," Braig muttered, letting her down.

To his immense surprise, Rita suddenly clung to him. Her fists were the only things between their bodies, clenched against his bare stomach. Her tears were cold against his skin, and she trembled uncontrollably.

He was stunned. What then? How could she act that way after what he had just done to her? _What a weirdy, _he thought to himself, as his hand patted her head, bringing her closer to him.

Her sobs grew louder. The cause of her sadness was the realization that, for the first time, her father wouldn't be there for her. For the first time she was left alone, much like how a child is the first time they are away from their parents, and they don't know why. She felt abandoned and neglected, but she needed something to cling to. No matter what had just happened, no matter how she felt, she had to cling to _some_thing, and that something was Braig.

"You done yet?" he said, his complaint half-jest. Her response was wrapping her arms around him, much to his discomfort. He wasn't one to attack girls when they were like this—_one _redeeming point about himself, he believed. As such, he just sighed and continued patting her head, his other arm wrapping around her. "Seriously, you done, though?"

Her trembling weakened, and her sobs quieted. After a few more seconds, she lifted her head a little.

"There y'go! Sheesh, what brought _that _on?" he asked, not exactly directed towards her.

Her eyes felt heavy. From fatigue or just from crying, she did not know.

"…Braig," she uttered his name, all remorse gone.

His eyes widened slightly at her mention of his name. Whoa. She actually could speak, more or less knew his name. And what a _voice, _too. It was throaty and breathless, like a seductress would whisper at night.

Her hands slid from his back to his waist and up past his chest to his shoulders. She raised her face to him, her chin barely grazing his chest. Her eyes were heavily-lidded, her thick black eyelashes giving them a bizarre appearance. Her thin lips were lightly parted. All her tears were dried, her eyes glossy by the water. A few stray strands of hair stuck to her cheeks as a result of the streams.

That was _not _the face of a fifteen-year-old. He was bewildered by her visage that tempted him. What the hell had happened to her? Had she gone insane? Possessed? She _really _wasn't like the other girls he had had, and he didn't know whether to be turned on or honestly scared by her diversity.

He chose the former. With another smirk threatening to show, he leaned down and brought his lips to hers. There was more of a pleasing response this time: her arms locked around the back of his neck, intensifying the kiss with her standing on her toes to press against him. He tightened his hold on her, his arms snaking behind her hair and around the smooth slope of her back. Her hands ruined the perfectness of his slicked-back hair, going through it from up below.

He pulled away, set to throw her back on the bed. When he saw the look in her eyes, though, he began having second thoughts. _What? Why the hell am I actually _thinking _'bout this? _he yelled at himself mentally. Her eyes were innocent with some sort of emotion in them. Whatever that was, he didn't recognize it, though.

He took his arms away from her, running a hand through his hair. He sighed out of frustration at himself. "You, uh…" he began to say, his back turned to her. "…You can go."

When he didn't hear anything on her end, be it verbally or the shuffling of her feet, he peered over his shoulder. She was staring at him stoically, all previous emotion that her expression had held gone. He would've gotten pissed off at her if she wasn't topless, the robe still hanging by the sash.

"I said you can _go! _And…uh, pull back on your robe," he added, it being suddenly hard to be mad at her.

This time, she left out the passageway, yanking up the shoulders of her robe. She cast a few quick glances behind her. He wasn't following her. She hustled out to the Great Chamber, her hands slightly trembling. The guards watched her leave, little care passing their faces. They were used to the states the women were left in after being sent to their lord's bedchamber.

"Wait! Rita! Stop! Get back here!" Braig's yells came from the other side of the room.

Rita stopped, just as she was told. She held her shoulders, the memories of what had just happened flooding her mind. She didn't know whether to be ashamed or scared or…or…what was that other choice? The one that loomed in the back of her mind?

Braig reached her, his tunic back on in a sloppy manner. "Hey, hey…" he murmured, taking her by the shoulders and turning her around. When he saw her broken state, he couldn't help but feel some sort of…guilt. He placed a hand on her left cheek, trying to get her to look at him. A few locks of her hair brushed past the back of his hand, tickling the skin.

She blinked her eyes, which were twitching with the need to shut. Tears stung them painfully for the first time in her life. While she knew people usually cried out of sadness, she didn't know if these were brought on by sorrow.

"…Come on, you're getting' some clothes on," he told her, putting an arm over her shoulder and leading her to the line of strewn clothes at the edges of the room.

The guards watched with awe and wonder. They had never seen their lord express such…_care _for a woman before, not even his own wife. Their mouths gaped open when they saw him sorting through the piles, attempting to find something for her to wear and sizing her up.

"Y'can't exactly be walkin' around with somethin' sexy like _that _on," he told her, seeing if a pear tunic could work on her.

She gazed up at him with sincere interest, listening to everything he said and observing everything he did. She stood perfectly still as he continued to sift through the clothes. She even held her breath, not wanting to ruin his actions.

She ended up with an aureolin tunic. He had handed it to her, expecting her to go into the back room to change. He wasn't all that surprised when she slipped off her robe right there and then, without a care who was watching. He gave a little sigh, but said nothing more as she began pulling up the pants. The guards weren't arguing, either. Their lord always had good taste in women, and they were used to getting at least one look at the woman before she was disposed of after their lord got bored with her. They were surprised to see no bruises, no bites, not even a drop of any liquid on her bare form.

She settled into the shimmering top, it draping over her structure perfectly. It fell to her knees, its low-cut collar stopping just above where her cleavage started. She pulled out her hair from the back, it falling in beautiful midnight waves against the bright color of the garb. She looked up to Braig for approval like she would have had her father been there. His approval was given by a smirk that reached his eyes. While still impish, it also held a sort of warmth then. Her lips turned up in a small smile, her eyes brightening. She let out a carefree giggle, wiggling a bit in her new clothes. To tell the truth, that had been the first time she had worn such soft, silken, clean clothing. She felt more like a princess than any one born into the position.

"A'ight, now go and find your dad," he sent her off with a smack to the arm.

Taking no offense by the action, she turned and ran off, still barefoot, out of the halls. The guards, meanwhile, were still getting over their shellshocked state. They kept themselves composed on the outside lest wreak their lord's suspicion, but they could barely hide it in their countenances. There was something going on with their lord. They just hoped his wife would hear nothing of it.

**x~X*X~x**

Rita ran through the hall opposite the one that led to the coliseum, her bare feet again feeling the cool tiles. She couldn't hide her happiness. She had to talk to her father, show him what Braig had so kindly given her. What he had done to her on that bed didn't plague her memory or her mood. In fact, it didn't bother her in the slightest. She just focused on her father.

She looked around the fallow hallway, wondering where to turn next. There was no panic at being lost or not knowing her way. In fact, she was excited. She found a chamoisse door with majorelle blue engravings ornately enscribed on its edges. She knew, she just _knew_, her dad was in there. She eagerly grabbed the old gold knob and entered the lab.

Inside was a great lab set up with strange technology and liquids everywhere. Her father was standing there, craned over something with another man with long, dusty flax hair. They both turned up when she entered.

"Father!" she exclaimed, rushing for Ansem. They embraced without pause, exuding great love in the action. "Look! Look at what Braig gave me!" she gushed, twirling a bit to show off the aureolin material.

"It's…it's _beautiful _on you, Rita," Ansem praised, speechless at the generosity of the crude ruler. Maybe he had been wrong… A thought struck him: "Rita, did he do…?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" she blinked, tilting her head a bit, the smile not fading in the slightest.

"…Nothing," Ansem shook his head with a slight sigh.

"Master Ansem, if you would…?" the blonde man urged, wanting to go back to the experiment.

"Ahh, yes, of course, Even. I'm sorry, Rita, but...Braig gave me a job here, and I need to get to work," Ansem told his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.

"Okay," she nodded, a little disheartened. She exited the lab with a glance to Even, leaving in silent giddiness. She closed the door and hugged herself, still loving her new clothing. She wondered what to do next, when she spotted someone with steel blue hair and cobalt clothes. With an impish gleam in her eyes, she chased after him.

| XD | D8 | 8D | DX |

I have had sooo much writer's block while writing this chapter. I didn't know where to go with this after a while in the middle, then I just totally rewrote the ending. I'm very, _very _happy with how this turned out. Things seem to be getting better (all the time~), but you know how these things go. It was hard finding a good color to call Even's hair. I was gonna go with ochre, but I thought a dusty flax fit it better. …Yeah, I'm O.C.D. about colors. Anywho, 'til next chapter! …Which I have _no idea _what to do on… orz


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